When I found out the other day that Anne Rice is apparently writing a werewolf book, I had a few mixed feelings.
First, there was the feeling of relief. Surely if Anne Rice is working on a werewolf book, that means that werewolves are going nowhere in the near future and so hopefully I will have a little easier chance getting my book published when it’s done. Looking at reality, though, I know it’s still going to be hard as hell to do, because I am a nobody and Anne Rice is… well, Anne Rice. But, it does mean that werewolves will probably stick around for a while, and hopefully not meet the same fate as vampires, who now sparkle.
Second, while I’m excited, I’m also slightly afraid. Anne Rice is well known for her vampire series. Not saying a person who writes about vampires CAN’T write about werewolves, but it will be interesting to see what she does. Yes, this does mean that I will most likely have to read the vampire series, which I’m sure one of my friends will be ecstatic about. I’ve heard that her writing is dense, but I’m not afraid of that either. If I can read through five Tolkien books where he can go on about one tree for 20 pages, then I’m sure I can easily make it through the denseness that is apparently the vampire Lestat.
But this post isn’t supposed to be about Anne Rice or her werewolves or vampires. It’s going to be about my obsession with werewolves and how it originated. I feel like I owe it to whoever reads this blog that if I’m going to be ranting about werewolves half the time, they have a good reason to know why.
Vampires never had a chance of me liking them. I have been terrified of vampires since childhood, and here’s why: when I was a youngin’, no older than 3 or 4 years old, my mother thought it would be fun to tell me and my older sister (who was about 4 or 5) all about vampires and how they came to suck your blood and what to do if you ever came into contact with one. Well, no sooner than she finished the story then the doorbell rang and when we answere, low and behold there was a vampire standing there, fangs, cape, and all. My mother starts screaming and putting her fingers up in the sign of a crucifix, while my sister cried behind her leg, and I hid under the table. Luckily, it was no real vampire, but my uncle dressed up as one, so we all lived.
That’s where it started, I’m sure of it. I remember going to sleep every night with the blankets securely wrapped around my neck so that if any vampire tried to come suck my blood it couldn’t. (Never mind that it could easily remove the blanket.. I didn’t think that far.) Needless to say I never was fond of vampires. I’m no longer afraid of them, and find them rather charming in their own way, but something called me over to the side of the inner beast.
The fascination had to have begun when I was about 7 or 8 years old. For some reason my dad thought it was okay to let us rent “The Howling”. I remember his reasoning being that he had seen it before and it was okay to let children watch it…. but then again my dad was always an interesting person.
So my first taste (and probably when I was bit) happened when I was little, but my fascination started when I was in my teens. In 7th grade I really got into Harry Potter. Remus Lupin was always one of my favorite characters, and he was a werewolf. But that was hardly an obsession (for werewolves, anyway). The next instance I can really remember was very recent. A little more than a year ago at my 21st birthday I was given a book: The Werewolfs Guide to Life. I didn’t get the chance to read it until over winter break, but when I did all these ideas started popping into my head. Ideas about a boy being bitten by a werewolf and having to figure out what he is with only the help of a werewolf hunter.
By then I was getting more and more into werewolves, but the final straw that broke the donkey’s back (pardon the cliche) was the SyFy channel bringing “Being Human” to the US. I kept seeing previews for it, and thought it looked pretty cool, but never really mentioned anything until a few days before it aired I finally told a friend (and loyal werewolf enthusiast) my intentions on watching it. Her response: “I wanted to watch that too!”
So on premiere night, we both came online and chatted while watching the first episode. Then I fell in love. Not only with the werewolf character, Josh, but with werewolves in general. The thought of them, what happens to them every month, the pain they must go through: it all fascinated me to no end. And with working on my book, watching the UK “Being Human”, finally seeing “Underworld: Rise of the Lycans”, and listening to music that could only be described as “wolfy”, that fascination has only grown.
So there’s the story. The reason I’m not so fond of vampires, and how my obsession with werewolves began. I honestly think that my love for werewolves were buried deep down inside me since I watched “The Howling”, but it didn’t really surface until I fed the fascination.
I’m on Team Werewolf! Which side are you on?
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